I spent most of my life zipping up other people's coats.

That's a big part of teaching second grade in a mountain town. Twenty kids, twenty snowsuits, forty mittens, and at least one boot that won't go on. I taught here in Park City for most of my life, and I loved every frozen recess of it.

Out on that playground, you learn what really keeps you warm. And at the school gate every morning, you see what the moms and grandmas are wearing. The pretty sweaters that itched by lunchtime. The soft ones that looked like a sack. The ones they apologized for: "It used to look better than this."

When I retired, my husband said it first. You've been giving sweater advice to half this town for years. Why not just pick them out for people? I laughed. Then I couldn't stop thinking about it.

So that's what I do now. I hold every sweater up to my cheek. I wear it on the porch with my coffee when it's cold enough to see your breath. I stand in front of the mirror and ask: would a woman my age feel good in this?

This winter I'm sending them beyond Park City, to women all over the country. That still feels a little unreal.

So this is me saying thank you for trusting me.

Take your time. Look for the one that makes you stop.

Warmly,
Hattie
Park City, Utah